


Shore Leave

by Sanwall



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanwall/pseuds/Sanwall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Kirk spends a shore leave planetside and one time he chooses to stay aboard the Enterprise. Features Kirk in civvies, Kirk trying to be Clark Kent, and Spock in stubble, as well as coffee shops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a rewrite of the TOS episode by the same name, but there are references to several episodes, this one included. Have fun finding them all!
> 
> Dedicated to shadows-are-my-sunshine for her invaluable assistance in getting my tenses sorted out, general proof-reading and boundless enthusiasm and support.

**San Fransisco**

Jim Kirk is famous.

Oh, he was always sort of _known_ just by being the son of George Kirk, and being born in space during a _historical event_. But his face wasn’t publicly recognized and he never really thought about it.

Then came the _Narada Incident_. Kirk scoffs at the name. Incident. Like that managed to encapsulate even a fraction of the scope of the events that led to the destruction of Vulcan. And even though Starfleet is usually scarce on the inside information, it was impossible for Jim Kirk not to be thrust out in the spotlight.

_The youngest Captain ever at only 25!  James T. Kirk stops the Romulan war criminal Nero from destroying the Earth... The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From The Tree – Son following legendary father’s footsteps_ – The newspapers were full of these sorts of headlines.

The first time Kirk saw his own face on a Starfleet recruiting poster, fifteen feet high and plastered to the side of a building, he flinched. He got a few comments about it, and he made jokes about his ego, but pretty soon it was just shrugged off.

Then off he went into space, leaving all that behind him. His concerns were of a greater nature: He was responsible for a ship, for its crew that would look up to him. Kirk really did his best to be exemplary – but then he might have different standards of exemplary than most others.

After the whole _Dreadnought_ debacle (any word about Khan is kept under lock and key, for understandable reasons, but a starship crashing in the Bay isn’t something they can just gloss over) Kirk is on everyone’s lips. It’s not just praise this time, a lot of critique and doubt is being voiced by all sorts of channels and persons, but Kirk takes it all with a shrug. What’s done is done.

Sometimes Kirk thinks of the time he was demoted for saving Spock, but that brief period as a Commander is always overshadowed by Pike’s death and by _his own death_.

Kirk shudders even though he’s wearing a grey coat and a brown, chequered scarf on this mild autumn day in San Francisco. It’s been half a year since he was revived, and he’s been on light, Earth-based duty for three months now and can already feel the itch to go out to explore the galaxies.

Starfleet command told him that as soon as the _Enterprise_ is ready for space, they’ll let him go, but he has to take a good, long shore leave now because he might not get one of those for a good long while after taking off.

And so Kirk has gotten a month off in spite of his complaints. This particular afternoon he ambles aimlessly about the city, wondering if he should take the trip to Iowa to visit his mother, who is planetside for once.

Instead of making a decision, he slips inside a small café just as a light drizzle begins to fall.

He doesn’t take his coat off, but goes directly up to the counter instead and is about to order an espresso when he thinks: “What the hell, I’m on _shore leave._ I can indulge.”

He smiles at the barista and orders a cappuccino.

She smiles back and confirms the order and Kirk can see the exact moment she recognizes him. He doesn’t let his smile falter, and accepts the cup handed to him, pretending not to notice the poor woman’s hands shaking.

He goes and sits by the window, trusting the foamed milk to keep the coffee hot while he digs up the communicator from his coat pocket.

Kirk should call his mother,b ut instead he sets the frequency to Commander Spock and the half-Vulcan responds after only a moment.

“Captain?”

“Not just yet, Spock,” he says softly, a smile playing on his lips and fingers lightly tapping on the white cup handle, “I was just wondering if we could meet up this evening? To finish that chess set we started last week on lunch break.”

 

**Argelius II**

Kirk all but bounces down the corridor to the transporter room with Bones walking beside him, grumpy as always.

“Swear to God, Jim, this is our first longer shore leave in a year – the first long shore leave on this mission, so if you come back with some exotic STD...”

“Relax, Bones,” Kirk drawls as he clasps his friend’s shoulder, “I promise to set a good example, what do you take me for, an idiot? I’m not an irresponsible cadet anymore, my dear doctor.”

“Don’t you ‘my dear doctor’ me - do you have any idea of the record this planet has?” Bones growls and brushes off his hand. Kirk laughs a little and the bickering continues as they enter the transporter room. Scotty and Spock are manning the console – the four of them are the last of the crew left onboard that don’t have shore leave duty.

“Four to beam down then, Scotty,” Kirk says gleefully and bounds up on the transporter.

McCoy joins him, muttering something about ‘unnatural’ and ‘never meant to scatter atoms across the universe’ as he does.

“Three to beam down, Captain,” Spock corrects where he stands behind the console, “I won’t be joining you on the planet.”

“But Spock,” Kirk says, eyebrows shooting up, “you need to rest; you’ve been working harder than all of us combined the last year.”

“For Vulcans, to rest is to rest – to cease using energy. To me, it is quite illogical to run around on a planet using energy instead of saving it,” Spock replies, unmoved by the plea in his Captain’s voice.

“But this is Argelius II, you have got to see it!”

“On the contrary, Captain,” the half-Vulcan states neutrally, “I have no imperative need to see what Argelius II has to offer.”

“Oh come on, Spock!” the Captain says and steps down from the transporter and leans himself against the console, smiling. “I know a place down there - a café where the women, they...”

“I know that place,” Bones calls from the transporter pad, smelling an opportunity to tease the stoic First Officer.

“Sounds exciting!” Scotty agrees, without any of McCoy’s sarcasm, “Let’s go!”

“Gentlemen, in _your_ condition?” Kirk says and glances at them in a manner carefully constructed so as to capture Spock’s curiosity. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand and returns his gaze to Spock.

“Mister Spock, the women in this café are...” he trails off as Spock tilts his head ever so slightly, raising one perfect pointed eyebrow a fraction of an inch. It’s his all-too-usual “I am not interested in your human shenanigans, please cease to pester me as it is illogical”-face.

“No, I guess not,” Kirk cedes, throwing his hands in the air, “I trust you’ll take care of my lady while Bones, Scotty and I are busy enjoying ourselves?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock says, straightening his back, “please do not strain yourselves.”

Kirk is the only one who laughs as the beaming sparkles envelop them and disintegrate their atomic structure.

As they appear on the planet’s surface, bodies tingling with the aftermath of the transportation, Kirk can’t help but feel a little disappointed that Spock wouldn’t join them. He makes a vow to bring the Vulcan along on the next shore leave instead.

 

**Cestus III**

Spock walks with purpose in his steps. The computer has informed him that the Captain is located in his ready room, and thus this is his destination. He nods briskly to the crewmembers he passes in the hallway, rides the turbolift in solitude, and asks the bridge crew to be at ease.

He enters the ready room without permission. Kirk is sitting by the table, deeply immersed in his pad. He is reading, and occasionally lifts the stylus to make a note.

“Commander!” he greets as Spock approaches him. There is the usual upturning of the lips as the Captain looks at him, but Spock also notices the deep bruises under his eyes.

“Captain,” the Vulcan acknowledges and stands to attention, “the _Enterprise_ has docked and we are ready to start transporting the crew assigned to have shore leave.”

“I know, I just signed everyone’s permission. If that’s all, I suggest you go take a leave too, or meditate or whatever.”

“I have a related matter to discuss with you.”

Kirk puts away the stylus and shoves the pad away as he leans back.

“Shoot, Mister Spock,” he says and rubs his eyes. Spock raises an eyebrow, but makes no comment as he has gotten used to all sorts of human colloquialisms during his two-year tenure as the First Officer aboard the _Enterprise._

He brings up his own pad.

“I picked this up from doctor McCoy's log. We have a crewmember aboard who's showing signs of stress and fatigue. His reaction time is down nine to twelve percent, associational reading norm minus three,” Spock recites, glancing down at the chart on his screen.

“That sounds bad,” Kirk agrees curtly.

“This crewmember is becoming irritable and prone to cause arguments, yet he refuses to take rest and rehabilitation. We cannot order him to –“

Kirk puts up a hand.

“All right Spock, I get it. A crewman's rights ends where the safety of the ship begins – I’ll order him to take a shore leave. What's his name?

Spock’s hands fall to his sides and he looks straight at his Captain.

“James Kirk.”

He allows Kirk’s face to fall before he adds:

“Enjoy yourself, Captain. Cestus III is an interesting planet. You'll find it quite pleasant I believe. Very much like Earth in many aspects.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kirk mutters and gets to his feet, stretching his back. “Ow, Jesus, my back hurts. There’s a kink there the size of my fist.”

“I recommend you find a masseuse during your leave,” Spock says and exits the room.

*

Spock has been counting on a restful week aboard the ship while the majority of the crew are planetside. He realizes somewhat belatedly that he failed to account for Captain Kirk’s unparalleled ability to find trouble.

All the signs point to the Captain having been kidnapped by Orion slave traders when he was about to enter a coffee shop. The incident comes to Spock’s knowledge almost immediately, and he manages to get a lock on the entire planet within minutes. No vessel of any kind attempts to flee the sector or planet, which leads Spock to believe that the slave traders are planet based and lead a contained operation.

The crew of the _Enterprise_ makes a steady progress on the investigation, and soon Spock is able to lead an away team into the desert on the fringes of the Cestus III capital city. They split up so as to cover more ground, staying within shouting range of each other.

The Captain has not been missing for more than one day, and yet a sense of relief washes through the half-Vulcan when Spock finds him, not far into the desert. The sun has just begun to set, but the heat is still pressuring.

“Captain,” Spock says, standing to attention, letting his phaser drop to the side.

“Spock,” Kirk laughs, voice hoarse and raspy from dehydration. He sinks into a crouched position, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I should have known you would find me. The Orions have a cage fighting business, not far from here. We can bring them down now, if I can just change into some decent clothes first.”

He is wearing civilian clothes: black pants and a white t-shirt that is now soiled with dirt and sweat – and a small armband of twined rope encircles his wrist; no doubt a souvenir from one of the many Cestus III dance halls. Spock notes that there is a red gash across his Captain’s back, and the tear in the fabric of his shirt is soaked with blood.

He registers a feeling of protectiveness and also something close to anger. Because the Orion slave traders have harmed his Captain, Spock in turn wants to cause them harm. Maybe it’s a dimension to protectiveness, Spock muses, and files the emotion away for later analysis

Kirk peers up at Spock, his hair dark and matted and face covered in dirt and stubble. His eyes are bright blue, as always.

“They made me fight a Gorn,” he chuckles, “they thought I’d be an easy prey. Didn’t know I’m used to dealing with those giant lizards.”

“It is fortunate you are not wearing a uniform,” Spock informs as he helps his Captain to his feet, “as that may have led them to surmise your true identity.”

 “If I may ask,” he continues as he rests a hand in the small of his Captain’s back for support, careful not to touch the open wound. “How did you defeat the Gorn and escape?”

Kirk leans his head against Spock’s shoulder.

“I didn’t defeat the Gorn as much as I let her lose on her captors.” Kirk smiles, but the sentence turns into a yawn, and Spock flips up his communicator to request a beam-up for two.

“Great shore leave,” the Captain says as the tingle of the transporter spreads through their bodies. “Next time you can go and enjoy a leave while I stay aboard the _Enterprise_ in the comfort of my own quarters.”

Later, in the privacy of his own quarters, Spock reaches the conclusion that it was not only protectiveness he felt in regards to his Captain, but affection. He decides that there is nothing to be done about the situation, as his last relationship with a colleague was terminated after two point three years. Being only friends has been beneficial to both Nyota’s and his own emotional well-being and so he will remain friends with James Kirk.

 

**New Vulcan**

The _Enterprise_ has been docked at New Vulcan for two weeks now. They have brought supplies and equipment for the building of the new Vulcan Science Academy, and Starfleet orders a month of shore leave for the entirety of the crew. As New Vulcan is close enough to Earth, people can choose to take a shuttle home.

Kirk hasn’t, though. He uses some of the time to catch up on paperwork, and then he decides to explore New Vulcan. He thinks briefly about Spock, who’s taken shore leave for once and hasn’t been aboard the Enterprise for a week. Kirk misses him a little, but that’s nothing new, he thinks.

He dresses in a white, collared button-up shirt and pale blue jeans in the hope of warding off the heat. He programs the replicator to fabricate a pair of black-rimmed glasses without any strength but with polarized lenses that turn dark in sunlight. Thus he was hoping both to shield his eyes from the scorching sun _and_ hide his identity ever so slightly.

Kirk declines all offers of company and beams down alone, feeling a bit like Clark Kent as he puts on his glasses and goes off to see what New Shi’Kahr has to offer.

*

After maybe three hours of strolling about, Kirk sits down at a small tea shop, serving Vulcan beverages and decorated in a decidedly Vulcan style with geometrical shapes, sharp lines and matted colors.

He isn’t surprised to find the clientele diverse though; Orions, Betazoids and Andorians sit beside Vulcans and chat with lowered voices– New Vulcan is full of non-Vulcans. Vulcan-Betazoid marriages are actually becoming quite usual, if Kirk isn’t misinformed.

He orders a tea drink with a name he vaguely recognizes from the many nights he spent in Spock’s quarters, playing 3D-chess with the half-Vulcan.

It tastes a little like cardamom and cocoa, but it leaves a fiery aftertaste that burns his tongue. Kirk sips on it slowly where he sits quite close to the drape-covered entrance to the establishment, with his legs splayed under the small, round wooden table.

After maybe fifteen minutes, the drape of wooden pearls is pushed to the side and somebody enters. Kirk looks at the person out of habit (always be aware of your surroundings) and notes the dark hair, pointed ears, and slanted eyebrows immediately.

Though something about the Vulcan’s bearing makes Kirk sit up and focus.

“Mister Spock,” he says, astonished. It is indeed his First Officer, but he is out of uniform, clad in a white undershirt and an open, black jacket with matching black pants. His usually perfect bowl cut has turned into a slightly stripy black fringe, and there is an unmistakable five o’clock shadow on the half-Vulcan’s strong jaw.

Kirk can feel his stomach lurch. He knows he’s been harbouring feelings for the Commander for months – hell, it’s been years by this point (sometimes he wonders if he hasn’t been in love with him ever since they started serving on the _Enterprise_ as Captain and First Officer together) – but he’s gotten really good at ignoring these feelings. Seeing Spock like this, though... like they aren’t officers of Starfleet at all, like they could just be two people meeting in a café; it makes Kirk feel weird and strangely hopeful.

Spock doesn’t look more affronted than he usually does when he acknowledges his Captain’s greeting. He orders a beverage and complies with human rules of etiquette and sits down opposite Kirk.

“Is there a particular reason for you to wear spectacles, Captain?” he says and Kirk has to admit that his ice breakers are as smooth as always. He feels like laughing, but contains it in a smile.

“It’s Jim when we’re on shore leave, Spock, and yeah, I was hoping to retain some anonymity,” Kirk says with a smile, gripping the handle of his glass lightly with two fingers. “Is there a reason for _you_ to wear the biker gang look?”

Spock manages to look like a question mark without altering his expression the slightest. Kirk finally laughs, his entire face crinkling with mirth.

“The scruffy beard and hair, the jacket, the whole thing,” he clarifies and gestures to all of Spock with his glass.

“I, too, was hoping to remain unidentified,” Spock explained and brought his own glass to his mouth, “and my clothes are a blend of human and Vulcan attire, which I found fitting.”

“Never once during our three years of service have I seen you as anything less than completely clean shaven, no matter how unidentifiable you wanted to be,” Kirk says and squints a little, “come on, there has to be another reason.”

Spock doesn’t meet his gaze as he lowers his glass and says:

“That is true. Nyota loathed the feeling of beard growth, and so I took particular care to be clean shaven, both for her sake and for the sake of propriety and regulation. However, seeing as I no longer have a romantic relationship with her nor am on active duty for the moment, I made the decision to let my facial hair grow as I have never done it before.”

“So it’s an experiment,” Kirk concludes and rubs at his own slightly prickly chin with a thumb, idly wondering how it would feel if his stubble were to scratch against Spock’s.

The half-Vulcan inclines his head and takes another sip of his drink.

“So what are you having?” Kirk asks, straightening up a bit and leading the conversation in other directions.

Kirk gets to know that Spock has been planetside for a week already; living in Starfleet quarters close to the site where the VSA is being built. He has visited his father and his counterpart, and is holding a series of lectures at Starfleet’s ambassadorial office, where the VSA is being temporarily hosted.

“Always the professor,” Kirk says with a lopsided grin and downs the last of the contents of his glass.

“I believe you yourself could hold some very informative and constructive lectures,” Spock says, cupping his glass with both hands, like he is warming them.

“Me? Please,” Kirk scoffs, “who’d want to listen to me? _I_ don’t want to listen to me. Besides, I don’t think I’d have the patience.”

“I would appreciate hearing you summarize your experience as a Captain of a Starfleet,” Spock says evenly and for once Kirk can detect no undercurrent of sarcasm or exasperation in his voice. “You have a talent for the unexpected and creative. It would no doubt be quite the experience to hear you give a lecture.”

Kirk lets the tip of his tongue show as he bites down on a smile.

“Mister Spock, you sure know how to flatter a guy. I’m blushing, truly.”

“Jim, if you insist _I_ refrain from using honorary titles then I must ask you to extend me the same courtesy.”

“Of course, Spock, my apologies,” Kirk acquiesces softly, looking back up at Spock through his eyelashes. He notices that the corner of Spock’s mouth twitches once, and that leads him to notice the softness in his dark eyes. The stubble really brings out the vague greenish tone to his pale skin, and it’s... fascinating.

Spock’s eyes wander down, as do Kirk’s. He sees the half-Vulcan’s hand on the table, seemingly casually placed beside his glass, but there is something – maybe an unspoken plea in the curl of his fingers.

Kirk does what he usually does – trusts his gut instinct. And so he places his own hand on top of Spock’s, their eyes meet and it’s as if something snaps into place.

*

They leave the drinking establishment pretty soon afterwards. They don’t hold hands, but they walk close enough for their shoulders to bump into each other occasionally. They do not differ enough from the afternoon crowd walking the streets of New Shi’Kahr to cause any commotion, even though Kirk feels as if he’s glowing.

They walk to the quarters Spock has been assigned, and as soon as the door slams shut behind them they meet in a kiss.

It’s not a good first kiss, Kirk thinks absent-mindedly. It’s too forceful and violent; as much teeth and tongue as it is lips. Hands grip tight enough to bruise, they tear and pull at clothes and hair; legs tangle in their hurry to get closer to each other and to get to the bed in the other room.

Kirk doesn’t care that their first kiss isn’t perfect. They have three years worth of lost time to make up for and the burn of stubble is just as good as he had imagined it to be.

 

**_The Enterprise_ **

****

Spock is immersed in the latest data in regards to his ongoing socio-spatial study when there is a chime at his door. He puts down his pad beside his computer terminal and goes to the door and motions it to open. It obliges, opening to reveal Jim Kirk. His arm is propped on the doorframe and his forehead is resting on the arm. His head is tilted a little awkwardly, but he looks up at Spock with a small smile on his lips.

“Captain,” Spock says and stands to attention.

“At ease, Commander,” Kirk says softly, and Spock can see in the lines of his face and in the stance of his body as well as the inflection in his voice that he is truly tired.

“Jim,” he says and unclasps his hands, and Jim smiles with his eyes.

“Just signed off the last people to shore leave.”

“You will not be going yourself? You do need the rest, Jim –“

“I know, but I don’t want to go. I’d rather stay here.”

“Please come in, then.”

“No,” the Captain says and straightens up a little, “I need a shower. But meet me in my quarters in ten minutes?”

Spock nods in affirmation. Kirk’s smile widens and he leans in as if to kiss him, but changes his mind and leans back before walking away.

*

Spock isn’t particularly mindful of walking through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ in only pants and black undershirt, seeing as most of the ship is abandoned for the moment. He doesn’t bother to chime at the door either; he just types in the lock override code into the keypad with the ease of repetition.

As he enters the Captain’s quarters, he can hear that Jim is still in the shower, so he walks over to Kirk’s computer terminal to access his own profile and data, and keeps working on his project.

He hears the shower being turned off, and soon the bathroom door opens. Not even the sound of feet padding towards him makes him interrupt his work – Jim places wet hands on his shoulders and plants a cold kiss on his neck.

“Please refrain,” Spock says calmly, eyes never leaving the screen, “your temperature is unpleasant.”

Jim turns away and Spock can hear the rustle of fabric against skin.

“Then come and warm me up.”

The half-Vulcan turns the chair slowly towards the Captain. He has a towel carelessly slung around his waist, one hand keeping it in place. The other hand is placed at his hip, and Spock is strangely captivated by the hipbone visible just above the towel and between Jim’s fingers.

“If you insist,” Spock acquiesces and gets on his feet. Jim seems to ignore him as he turns away and starts drying his legs with the towel. Spock has long since accepted that he cannot suppress the emotions he feels in regards to James Kirk, and so he embraces the warm, sated feeling he gets when Jim is so completely at ease with both Spock and himself.

He comes up behind Jim and places his hands on his waist, relishing in the shudder it causes.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs and leans back into Spock’s embrace.

“You are moist,” Spock says into the skin of Jim’s neck as water seeps through his undershirt, and the man’s laughter reverberates through them both.

“You sure do know how to talk dirty,” Jim says as he turns around, letting the towel fall away completely.

Before Spock can retaliate, Jim captures his mouth in a kiss. It’s languid and slow, and Jim grips Spock’s head, thumbs stroking the outer shells of his ears – where the elegant curve turns into a fine point. By the time they come up for breath, they’re both half-hard already.

Jim looks down and chuckles.

“I guess the shower was really invigorating, huh,” he murmurs as he rests his forehead against Spock’s and trails his hands up his chest to let them come to rest at the base of his throat.

“I believe you humans would say: ‘How lucky for me’.”

“But Spock, you’ve told me for certain that you don’t believe in luck - oh.”

This is where Spock brings his hand down to Jim’s penis, which is approximately three degrees warmer than his other extremities.

Any further exchange of words is brought to a stop by Jim’s frenzied attempt to rid Spock of his clothing. Even though they by many standards have had a lot of sexual intercourse during the last year, Spock finds that Jim still manages to incite excitement and lust in him simply by being attracted to him

“God Spock, I missed you,” Jim breathes as he finally pulls the black undershirt over Spock’s head and buries his nose in the dip at the base of his throat.

“We have been apart for no more than six point two hours,” Spock states, but there is softness in his voice as he cards his fingers through Jim’s sandy light hair.

“Still,” he replies, and shoves Spock backwards. He is caught off guard and off balance, and so he sits down on Jim’s bed rather ungracefully. Before he knows it, Jim has unzipped his pants and dragged them halfway down his thighs.

Spock only watches as Jim places kisses on his thighs and belly – his mouth is so much warmer than the rest of him, warm enough to register on heated Vulcan skin. His cool hands clamp down on Spock’s hips and his grip in Jim’s hair tighten as the man places his first, tentative kiss on the head of his dark green penis.

Spock has learned that Jim enjoys oral sex, which he calls ‘blowjobs’. He particularly enjoys giving them to Spock, and Spock has also learned that he is not at all averse to seeing Jim’s mouth envelop his erection.

Spock calculates the mathematical equation for the curve of Jim’s upper lip, but further thoughts are interrupted when Jim drags his tongue across the ridge on his shaft. Spock’s nerves light up instantly, and he forcefully drags Jim up on top of him to escape the torrent of sensation.

Jim’s lips are soft and dark pink and Spock never ceases to be amazed at how fantastic they feel against his skin. Spock allows him to kiss a trail across his collarbones as he slowly pushes their groins together and enjoys the press of Jim’s body against his own.

Jim gives a breathless moan, and Spock inhales sharply at the sound. It is curious that a moan can elicit such lust in him, but Spock accepts it as fact and attempts to get Jim to make that sound again by grabbing his arms and using his thighs to roll them over so that he straddles Jim.

Spock entwines their fingers and places their hands above Jim’s head before he plants an open-mouthed kiss on the pulse point just beneath the jaw, which makes the man under him squirm.

He then lets go of Jim’s hands and grips his arms instead, feeling the _biceps brachii_ flex under his palms.

“Spock, I want you to fuck me,” Jim whispers into a pointed ear, and Spock will not admit how the wash of hot air, coupled with teeth gently nipping at his earlobe, makes him shiver. He kisses the birthmark on Jim’s right _pectoralis majorii_ just because he can.

“You use the word ‘fuck’ in several different contexts with as many different meanings,” Spock informs him as he reaches between them to grab both of their erections in an attempt to create more friction.

Judging by the way Jim bucks up into his hand, he succeeds.

Jim gives a breathless laugh that makes Spock want to press even closer to him and envelop him in an all-encompassing embrace.

“I want your dick in my ass; can I make it any clearer?” Jim says softly and the corner of Spock’s mouth twitches.

“There is no need to clarify further,” he agrees. Jim is already reaching for the lube.

They take their time with the preparation process – Jim let’s Spock take care of most of it, stretching his anal orifice with two fingers until he writhes. It’s an interesting experience for Spock too, as his fingers are as sensitive as lips.

When Jim all but presses down onto Spock’s hand, the half-Vulcan coats the tip and shaft of his penis with a generous amount of lubricant. He’s on his knees as he lifts Jim up by his hips and slowly pushes inside him.

“Oh god yes,” Jim groans and braces his arms on either side of his body, throwing his head back.

“Is it acceptable?” Spock says, his breathing somewhat strained and body trembling with the effort of maintaining the position without moving.

“Yes, fuck, go on,” Jim urges and wraps his legs around Spock’s waist, hands curling in the white Starfleet regulation sheets. Spock complies and thrusts in deeper, mindful of the limitations of Jim’s body.

His mental shields are adequate, but some of Jim’s pleasure seeps through after a while and Spock allows a groan to escape his lips as he pulls out a little before thrusting back in.

He is lost in a sea of sensations, Jim is all around him with his hands and his words – he pulls Spock down and presses open-mouthed kisses all over this face and neck while letting his broad hands travel over his hot back, clasping shoulder blades, tracing the spine and kneading his clenched buttocks.

Spock thrusts down and in and establishes a rhythm that soon becomes erratic. Jim urges him along with whispered promises and curses, and it’s not long before they both reach their climax within moments of each other.

The half-Vulcan sags down and Jim’s arms envelop him, and they lie panting silently for a while, eyes closed.

After a minute or two Jim gives a quiet laugh and moves a little. Spock obligingly pulls out, and he registers a wince on his lover’s face. Spock puts a hand on Jim’s face, cupping his cheek and tries to determine if anything is wrong.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need to take another shower,” he says, squinting at Spock with one eye. Spock relaxes minutely and starts to move away, but Jim’s grip on him tightens and he puts his mouth to Spock’s ear.

“Best shore leave so far.”


End file.
